Lunatics, the both of them! Mad men!

Caelus strode between craters and overhangs of broken stone in a fury, the archmage robe fluttering behind him. His gargoyle couldn’t land on the cliffside so he had to walk the rest of the way in a hurry, lest his attendants notice his absence. Suspicion had already started to mount among his peers. Being found missing from the capital in the dead of night would draw even more unwanted attention.

A piece of rock crumbled under his weight and he nearly lost his footing. He cursed himself for suggesting this meeting place. These mountains had been no man’s land for centuries, abandoned by warring kingdoms after their borders shifted. They served a new purpose now. A grander one, Caelus would argue. If one sought to swear an Oath away from prying eyes, this was their destination.

Caelus came to the end of the narrow path, where magic had torn holes through the mountainside. Glancing around, he saw only the dark of night. A man of his stature having to hide, having to deal with criminals and outlaws… It sickened him. He’d never imagined a day would come when he had to break faith with his own kingdom, yet here he was. Not that he had a choice. Humanity teetered on the edge of extinction. He could either go down in history as a traitor, or perish alongside the rest of his race. Caelus wasn’t interested in perishing, so when everyone else turned a blind eye to the danger, he decided to act. He decided to bear the burden.

Hazel light danced on his fingertips, leaving trails of radiance on the rock wherever he touched. The mound’s surface cracked and retreated inward, revealing a dimly lit corridor. Caelus caught himself breathing erratically as he stared into the darkness of that passage. The men he was about to meet were of considerable skill. They had managed to slip letters straight into his office during their correspondence. Caelus even got two of his best mages to guard the premises, only to find them disoriented and hazy the next morning. The letter of that day mocked him.

The anger inside him flared again, but he doused it. He was only here to negotiate the terms of the Oath. Not to fight. The rocks shifted, signalling that the spell would soon end, so Caelus lowered his head and entered the passage. The rock returned to its solid state behind him, and what little moonlight illuminated the corridor vanished. His hand brushed the smooth and damp stone lining on the walls as he walked. The gradual descent into the tomb and the smell of must and decay muddled his senses. His heart beat faster as the ground levelled beneath his feet.

Magic that rivalled his own lay hidden in the darkness, a looming threat in the air that drew ever closer. It was like breathing in deeply, only to find the air stale and burning hot. As he reached the end of the passage, he made out the arched doorway that led into the crypt, decorated with runes and glyphs from days of old.

“I pictured you older,” Leylin called from the darkness. His voice drew a line between melodious and imposing. “And with a cane.”

Caelus drew a sharp breath and strained his eyes against the darkness, but couldn’t see the man. “If you can deliver on your promises, I’ll live to see the day I’ll need it.” He swallowed back his fear and inched forward. “You guaranteed the safety of me and my family. Tell me then, how will you do it?”

“Relax,” Leylin replied. “After we establish ourselves as rulers of Silyra, that should be a simple matter.”

“Rulers of… What?” Caelus shook his head. Had he misheard? “You want to dethrone the king?” His voice unconsciously lowered. “Have you lost your mind?”

“Careful how you speak to me, archmage." Leylin’s voice hid a tinge of mockery. "I've been planning this for a very, very long time. My patience is wearing thin.”

“So be it. I’ll humour you.” Caelus composed himself. “Let’s assume that you can, with my help, have someone you trust sit on the throne. What then? How will you deal with Andre’s army? You know as well as I do that it’s only a matter of time until they drop the facade of peace.”

“Let them come.” Leylin laughed to himself. Caelus could feel the man’s magic shifting over him, writhing all around like a shadow without form. “You see, I care not for war or who it will bring ruin to. All I care about is the soul your kingdom tries to hide from the world. Once I get my hands on that, a bunch of Andren savages will be easy to deal with.”

Caelus fought hard to keep himself from lashing out. “This is a waste of my time. You’re a fool to think Andre and Silyra won’t see through your little schemes. And you’re even more of a fool to think I’ll go along with this.” He turned to leave without waiting for a response.

“Measure your steps carefully.” Another gruff voice sounded from ahead of him.

Caelus stumbled back. How did he not sense that someone else was here? Was Leylin’s presence affecting his senses? Still, he couldn’t feel any magic coming from the man.

“We finally meet in person.” Caelus tried to compose himself. This had to be the accomplice Leylin mentioned in his letter. “I’ll ask again. How will you do it?”

“That doesn’t concern you,” Leylin said. “You just need to follow our orders. Contain the spread of information and open a path through the city’s barrier. Then, your family will be safe.”

Follow orders? That was the drop that spilled the cup. He was the head of a noble House, not some random lackey. “I knew it. You’re both insane. You expect me to swear an Oath based on a promise and blind faith?”

The silence that followed the echoes of his voice was deafening. In that void of sound, Leylin’s intentions were evident.

Caelus readied his magic. “I’m risking my position just by being here. Either you explain the plan in full and we swear this Oath as equals, or I’m leaving this place.”

He strained his eyes against the darkness and caught a glimpse of Leylin’s form.

“Your contribution to this endeavour,” Leylin said, “is minuscule.”

Caelus could see the mage’s scarlet eyes light up in the darkness. They locked onto him, like a wolf observing its prey’s struggle before the slaughter.

“And so is your life.” A lurid red light flared out of Leylin’s hand and Caelus raised his hands to cast a spell, but he was far too slow. Red veils of light lashed out and pierced his leg. Paralyzing pain spread through his body like icy, liquid metal. His feet trembled with each unsteady step backward and he clenched his jaw harder than he ever had, filling his mouth with salty blood in the process.

“Show some restraint, Leylin.” The other man’s voice came from the darkness. “We don’t want to alert the other nobles.”

Leylin snorted and most of the pain was gone. It had vanished as abruptly as it had come, leaving Caelus panting. He ran his hands up and down his body, but no wound remained. Only a tightness that clung to his right leg.

“You claim to know little of our plans, Caelus, but at the same time you know far too much to back out now,” said the unknown man and glanced at him from the shadows. The silver light of his eyes drove a chill up Caelus’ spine. “Yield, or this tomb will house a second body. Without you, the rest of your family will be easy pickings.”

Caelus cursed. It had been a trap to lure him out of the capital, and he had fallen for it. “Wait,” he replied, still dazed. “I’ll do it.” What other choice did he have? He approached the two figures cautiously, leg still numb from the spell.

“I'm glad you came to your senses. I shall begin.” Leylin held out his gloved hand and chanted in a strange tongue. A torrent of black and crimson power shot out of his palm and vanished into the darkness of the tomb.

I'll play by your rules for now, but you’ll let down your guard eventually, Caelus thought. He raised his hands and unleashed his powers as well. Silver, crimson and hazel magic swirled into a whirlpool between them, filling the crypt with light. The magic in the air converged, growing from the chorus of arcane chanting. Tremors shook the crypt as space distorted, and a shadow formed, looming over them. White eyes surfaced on its body and its deep, sinister voice signalled the beginning of the ritual.

“May you find life, everlasting.”